E R N I E ' S H O U S E O F W H O O P A S S

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November 30, 2007

What About Bob? I'll Tell You About Bob.

Today marks end official end of the 2007 hurricane season, and on behalf of my fellow Floridians I am pleased to say, we have escaped hurricane free. And there is but one entity to thank for this good fortune: Bob the Hurricane God, who sits out on my lanai. You see, in February of this year I was down in Bonita Spings looking around the flea market. It was there I met Bob. Bob and I got to talking and I expressed how the worry of a hurricane hammering the Gulf Coast of Florida was always a constant threat. Bob explained how he had complete control over the weather and mentioned how he wasn't really happy with his current living quarters. So Bob the Hurricane Goid and I made a deal. I would buy Bob and take him home. There I would set him up near my pool, keeping him surrounded with lush green foliage so he could enjoy the Florida sunshine in peace, and in return Bob would keep the hurricanes away. I worked very hard at keeping Bob comfortable. And it was worth it, because Bob kept up his end of the bargain in spectacular fashion. So any of you folks out there marveling at your good fortune this year, let me assure you: luck had nothing to do with it. It was the will of Bob the Hurricane God. So thank you for a hurricane free 2007, Bob. And I look forward to continuing our relationship for a long time to come.

Hey guys, If I’m a dickhead for not reading how to submit stuff to this site then please kick me in the nuts. My friend dressed up for this video of him chopping a toy radio in half. We had access to a slowmo camera and an axe so we made the best of it [more]. Cheers - Ash

Ernie, I am fully aware of your respect for those that have served, and still serve their country. This "Dog and Trailer Combination Rig was commissioned by the owner's wife, whose Grandfather's image is on each door, when he was a very young Australian and New Zealand Army Corps ( A.N.Z.A.C.) soldier in WW1. All the original ANZAC's are gone now, but their deeds and memory are legend. The other scenes relate to WW11, Korea and Vietnam. This Rig is in Sydney, New South Wales, Australia. It is NOT a 'show-pony', it is an everyday working rig. It's named 'REMEMBERANCE', as can be seen on the sun visor above the windscreen. Our Veterans and current serving members are, at last, being accorded the recognition and respect that for too long, has been shamefully lacking. [photos] Stuart G., Sgt, Royal Australian Air Force. (Retd)

Ernie, I received this from a friend. Though you might want to post the pics. There is no such thing as "costs too much" when compared to one life saved! It looks like those new trucks are worth the cost! It just paid for itself. This is one of the new "hardened" vehicles that was hit by a 500 lb bomb (IED). The vehicle was totally destroyed, but everyone in the vehicle walked away. Note the unusual construction of the bottom of the hardened Pathfinder APC. Note the bottom looks like the hull of a ship. The blast picked up the truck and turned it around! The driver got some broken ribs (see the photo of the steering wheel), but that's it. Everyone walked away from a 500 lb explosion directly beneath their vehicle. [photos] Later.... Zodell.

Old and busted: dogs at zero g's. The new hotness: barf bags at zero g's. She's gonna need a wet-nap after that one. And for those of you who asked, yes, this is my second day with Paris Hilton free dreams. Dammit.

I Have A New Found Respect For Paris Hilton.

I had a very interesting and extraordinary dream last night. I'd like to tell you about it. I'm sure any wanna-be Freuds will have a great time with this one.

The dream took place in a room that opened up into a vast hallway area. The floorplan was very similar to a hospital wing, only it wasn't all white and sterile. Quite the contrary, as it was very warm and everything felt very homey. Decorations and paintings hung on the green walls. There were tables with bouquets of flowers. And there was a social gathering going on. I'm reluctant to say 'party' because that makes me think drunk people with lampshades on their heads. This was more the speed of intermission at a play... adults standing in small groups, munching finger foods and talking about how their 401(k) is going to shit. I was there as well obviously, only instead of standing, I was laying in a bed. It could have been a hospital bed since the sheets and blanket were stark white, but again, the overall environment was definitely not. In bed with me, was Paris Hilton. She was on my right. The party was happening around us, but none of the partygoers seemed to take notice to two people being in a bed. Neither I nor Ms. Hilton felt out of place. But wait, here's where it gets weird.

Across the room from us, was a Russian gymnast. She had brown hair, and her very toned body had been tanned a golden brown. She was completely naked. She too was not involved in any discussions with her fellow party people, but was stretching and excercising. She was absolutely captivating to watch. Stunningly beautiful. I don't know her name, and even if you listed off twenty female Russian gymnasts, I couldn't know the difference. I just knew she was Russian. Absolutely... captivating to watch. So captivating that it gave me a raging super hard on. I'm talking full mast attention, here. So hard, that by bedmate, Ms Hilton noticed it. I pulled the covers back to show her. And there was my peener staring back up at Paris Hilton. But wait, here's where it gets really weird.

Paris seemed to know that it was not her I was so turned on by, but the Russian gymnast across the room, and was not offended by that fact. In fact, here's what she did. Wonderful humanitarian Paris Hilton offered to suck my cock right then and there, and even said it would be okay if I wanted to look at the naked gymnast while she did it. Now is that selfless, or what? And so she did, pulled the covers down, got into position and proceeded to give me the best blowjob I've ever had in my life. No one at the party gave us a second look. No one at the party seemed to notice the naked Russian girl stretching out a rooms length away. And before I knew it, I realized that Paris Hilton was giving me such a spectacular blowjob, that I turned my full attention on her, ignoring the naked gymnast chick completely. And there I sat, watching Paris' head bob up and down, ignoring the rest of my surroundings. Paris's oral skills were simply magnificent.

I woke up before I could blow my load. I'm not sure how I feel about that part. And before you ask, it's been at least a year since I've seen 'One Night in Paris' and no, I don't watch gymnastics.

I've always liked Owen Wilson. No, not like I now like Paris Hilton, I mean I've always appreciated his movies. Shanghai Noon. Behind Enemy Lines. Wedding Crashars. Even the animated flick, Cars. I was bummed out awhile back when he tried to off himself, so I guess I'm just glad he's doing better. Most celebs I couldn't give a rat's ass about, but I dunno. he just seems like a good guy to me. Plus he's banging Michelle Ryan now, so maybe there's a little admiration thing going on, too. And then you have the bigger name chick celebs. Hayden Panettiere, Eva Longoria, Evangeline Lilly. There are all household names. I think they're all worn out. Which brings me to... five television hotties that I think are woefully underrated. First, Sarah Carter from Shark; she's got a classic untouched look to her. Then Pablo de Cote from NCIS; yes I know she's not really a HIB and she just plays one on tv. Yes, I know she's actually from Chile. She's just hot. Now, Olivia Wilde from House; I was also going to flag her from The Black Donnelleys, too. Besides can anyone resist a brunette with blue eyes. Followed by Emily Deschanel from Bones; I will admit her sister Zooey came close though, with her naked shower singing scene from Elf. And finally, playing second fiddle to one of my alltime favorites Jamie Presley in My Name Is Earl, we have Nadine Velasquez; I'll admit I got a little hot even when she grew armpit hair in that one episode.

Okay, and as promised, today's Game Challenge. It's a mixture of Arrow Tag and uh, some game where you click on things. In the earlier levels you only have to pass your mouse over the circles. Then you have to click on them. Then you have to click on them with your up arrow key. And then Speedroll gets weird. Not paris Hilton blowjob dream weird, but still. I got 337 points.

That Ain't Patch Adams.

Supposedly man was created in God's image. But I don't know... you'd think God would have a bigger penis than this.

Some obviously some jokes today, but let me be clear about something: no Polish jokes. And before you even try, their site is dead.

An Amish farmer walking through his field, notices a man drinking from his pond, with his hand. The Amish man shouts: "Trink das wasser nicht. Die kuhen haben dahin gesheissen." (Which means "Don't drink the water, the cows have crapped in it.") The man shouts back: "I'm a Muslim, I don't understand. Please speak in English." The Amish man says: "Use two hands. You'll get more."

Heather Mills McCartney parted company Friday with her lawyer and her publicist in her divorce war with Paul McCartney. His relationship with the one-legged model was doomed from the very start. He's an old- time rock 'n roller and she's into hip-hop.

A guy was driving down a deserted road when he accidentally hit a pig. Nobody saw him do it so he kept on driving. A little ways on a policeman stopped the car. "I'm arresting you for leaving the scene of an accident". "How did you know?" the man asked. "The pig squealed."

Patient: Nurse, I keep seeing spots in front of my eyes.Nurse: Have you seen a doctor?Patient: No, just spots.

There was a gentleman in the hospital bed next to me. He was covered with bandages from head to toe. I said to him, "What do you do for a living?" He said, "Well, I used to be a window washer." I asked, "When did you give it up?" He replied, "About halfway down."

John bought his new colleague, Peter, home for dinner. As they arrived at the door, his wife rushed up, threw her arms around John and kissed him passionately. "My goodness", said Peter, "and how long have you been married?" "22 years", replied John. "You must have a fantastic marriage if your wife greets you like that after all those years." "Don't be fooled, that bitch only does that to make my dog jealous."

Love the site, thought you'd enjoy the pics. They remind me of how some of my first dates turn out-- pig spooning. - Barry

Also, the pic of the big plane turning in front of the little plane hit quite close to home. I was a ground maintenance avionics technician in Japan (Okinawa, Kadena AFB) who had launched PR-32 (an EP-3E ARIES II from VQ-1), out on April 1st, 2001, never to see it again. That was an interesting day. Our maintenance Chief had to tell us that the plane may have been shot down and that it was not an April fools day joke. He almost had tears in his eyes. Anyways, that's my claim to fame, I suppose. The aircrew got free Domino's for life... fuckers. And per diem for the 11 days they spent on the resort island controlled by China. peace out - Sean

And the winner in TBA was Scott who was essentially yhe first person to send in the completed puzzle. Again, I got fucked on that one because again, I made the rational assumption because your time was recorded on each level, you would be given a final score at the end. So I'm not comfortable announcing the next game challenge until I complete all 40 levels and make sure that I don't look like an drunken asshole again. Not that I have anything against drunken assholes, mind you. Therefore, my completed score will be posted tomorrow.

Installing USB Devices: A Definitive How To.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, installing new computer hardware used to be quite a challenge. Because back in the day, nothing good could be simply plugged in, no. Any worthwhile upgrade had to be installed internally, which meant overcoming several obstacles which were quite daunting for the average person. First you had to steel yourself up to peeling back the "VOID IF REMOVED" stickers that the manufacturer put on the back of your computer cover. Then the biggie... setting such goodies as the DMA Channel, IRQ number, and Port address. "200? 220? 240? IRQ 5 vs 3 vs 9? What the fuck?!" Then you had to find the appropriate vacant bus slot and get the card seated just right. And the software install? God help you if you didn't know your way around the CONFIG.SYS and AUTOEXEC.BAT. What the fuck was the average computer user to do? In short, nothing. No, the average computer user had to reply upon the skills of their local nerd whenever a computer upgrade was attempted. That was The Way It Was.

And then, A New Hope. Behold the dawn of the Universal Serial Bus, or USB, to the masses. USB reduced hardware installs to a painfully simple process: Follow The Fucking Instructions. That's it. You didn't need to know anything about your computer's existing hardware, anything about what drivers you already had loaded, or what operating system service pack you had. You didn't even need to figure out what slot you plugged your new deevice plugged into - all USB slots are all the same! Yes, all you had to do was one simple things to enjoy your new USB device: Follow The Fucking Instructions. And to expound upon that, the instructions to install any USB device can be boiled down as follows: First load the software, then plug in the new device.

That's it. It's a very simple premise. So let me ask you something. Do you put your shoes on before you put your socks on? No, of course you don't. Especially if each morning, sitting atop your footwear, was an enormous color coded postcard that read, "DO NOT PUT YOUR SHOES ON UNTIL AFTER YOU HAVE PUT YOUR SOCKS ON FIRST." I mean even if you don't know a single thing about computers (or getting dressed), you'd at least be able to follow simple instructions like that, right? Because that's all there is to it. Nothing else. No DMA channels or interrupt conflicts. No DIP switches or setting of bus speeds. Just true, honest to goodness 'plug-and-play' that nerds of yesterday only dreamed about. And all a person has to do is, you guessed it, Follow The Fucking Instructions. Instructions which are presented in step-by-step fashion to where even the biggest fucking idiot could readily keep up:

1. Insert the CD into your computer.

2. Close the CD tray.

3. If the CD does not autorun, double click 'autorun'.

4. Follow the prompts on the screen.

5. When told to do so, plug in the new USB device.

You're looking at five idiot-proof steps -- and I'm very serious when I say this -- you have to actually work at fucking up a USB device install. It has to be a conscious effort. You have to wake up that morning and say to yourself, "My life is too easy. I'm going to make my life difficult, as well as the life of those around me." In order to fail with USB you have to come home from Best Buy, unwrap that new toy you bought, stare right at the five illustrated "QUICK INSTALLATION INSTRUCTIONS" and then you have to choose to fuck things up. You have to choose to transform a very simple task into a very difficult one. You have to choose to not Follow The Fucking Instructions. By performing something like this:

1. Skip ahead and perform step 5.

2. Go back to step 2.

3. Go even further back and perform step 1.

4. Perform step 5 again.

5. Frustrated, go back and perform step 3.

6. Perform step 4.

7. Repeat step 4.

8. Repeat step 4 again.

9. Perform step 5.

10. Perform step 1.

11. Perform step 3.

etc... until you end with...

27. Call Ernie.

And here's a newsflash you you. The first thing I'm going to ask -- and it's a question I'll already know the answer to but I'll ask it anyway just to hear you lie to me -- is, "Did you follow the instructions?" I know what you're going to say. I know what you're going to say will be anything but the truth. This is just a question I ask so I have a few seconds to silently curse under my breath. You're going to say you did. And here's what's going to happen next. I'm going to tell you to take unplug the USB device, eject the CD, turn your computer off, turn your computer on, and this time... Follow The Fucking Instructions. Now I know, this is an easy five minute process. Think about that: five minutes. Three hundred seconds. That's a long time. So when thirty seconds later you say, "Okay, I did that and it didn't work." I'll know you're lying again. You were incapable of following five instructions when they were illustrated with color drawings, so I don't know what made me think you could follow five verbal instructions but again, I had to go through the motions. Amazed at my fortune telling skills? Wait, because there's more. Here comes the big finale. I'm going to ask you a very direct question, "You unplugged your new USB ethernet adapter, ejected the CD, rebooted your computer, and reinstalled the software... just now?" And here's what you're going to say -- and you're actually going to believe this is a valid answer to my question -- you're going to answer, "I think so."

And in the end, I know that it will take less time and be less frustrating to me to get in my car, drive an hour to your house, and Follow The Fucking Instructions for you, than it will for me to try to walk you through this over the phone. Why? Because for some reason I can not understand, you are incapable of Following The Fucking Instructions.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Current Events.

Wounded GI's being asked to return their enlistment bonuses: Is it absurd? Of course it is. Was it intentional? I doubt it. Probably 99% of the computer code written for the military is done by either civilian contractors or military personnel who are accustomed to office life and have never seen a day of combat in their military career (your truly, for example). For them it was a simple "IF-THEN" statement in their programming. IF [servicemember who received a (re)enlistment bonus leaves before their scheduled Date of Seperation] THEN [calculate the balance to be recoverd]. I'm sure at the time the code was written there were no provisions for medical discharges and because it was probably done during peacetime, no test data brought this flaw to anyone's attention. I think this issue is a programming oversight in their financial software and not the military actually expecting to recover $3,000 from a kid with his face melted off. Given the obvious public outcry it would (is) generate, I can't really see any rational person signing off on this as functioning as designed. I would imagine this issue will be corrected shortly and "whoopsies" issues to all the injured soldiers asked for a refund.

Celebrity Justice x2: Mike Tyson gets caught with cocaine during a DUI stop and spends 24 hours in jail. Lindsay Lohan gets caught with cocaine during a DUI stop and spends 86 minutes in jail. Both will be home in time for Thanksgiving. If I were convicted of the same crimes you folks wouldn't be hearing from me until somewhere around 2012. So uhhhh, what the fuck.

The Saudis punishing a gang rape victim with 200 lashes: Seriously, is anyone really surprised here? I mean outrageous, yes. Appalling, sure. But be honest with yourself... do you really find this kind of shit happening in the Middle East really surprising? Of course you don't. Because let's face it, they're all fucking crazy there. And in regards to the US not publicly condemning the ruling? As fucking warped as this is to say... we shoudn't. Truth is, it's their fucked up country and their fucked up courts. But they're no more fucked up than they were a month ago, a year ago, or ten years ago.

Game Challenge. The next one is TBA, and no I don't mean To Be Announced. You play this entire game using only your spacebar. But if you think that means it's easy, you better go play Tic-Tac-Toe with your fucking niece, because this game will fuck you up. You must use your spacebar to launch a ball from one basket to another, and eventually into aportal that beings you to the next level. There are 40 levels to complete. You are timed. On the upside, since we have Thanksgiving coming up, some of you may take a little longer to complete this than others, so this game actually saves your progress as you go along, so you can the window and come back to it. I have completed 13 levels before taking a break to complete this post. Stay fucking tuned.

Anyone Else Remember the Hainan Island Incident?

Win two airline tickets all expenses paid to the 2008 Olympic games in Beijing, China. To participate is very easy, just view the following photo, correctly answer the following questions and send your answers to the International Olympic Committee:

1. Which student seems to appear tired / sleepy?2. Which ones are male twins?3. Which ones are the female twins?4. How many women are in the group?5. Which one is the teacher?

Yep, looks like Kevin pulled it out with his score of 86 in Mass Attack. I know I promised a new game challenge today, but I lied. No, no, it's okay, I can do that; I'm a guy. But there will be one tomorrow, I super double dog promise. Mmm, double dogs. This is an example of a good little doggie who should be rewarded with milkbone treats. This is an example of a bad little doggie who should be rewarded with a size 10 show up his little ass.

Now I Don't Know About You...

... But I take my eating very seriously. I'm sure you do, too. And if you're half as pissed off at Jimmy Dean for downsizing their sausage from 16 ounces to 12 ounces as this guy is, then maybe you'll leave a gem of a voicemail like this. Because that's over 600 lbs of man, one plump woman and a daughter (and probably two dogs) he has to feed... thus proving that yes, everything is bigger in Texas.

Time for two dark secrets from my past. One, I like butterlfies. And two, I used to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer when it first came out. Hey laugh if you want, but the writing was pretty good and the show was filled with eye candy. I found myself lusting over not Sarah Michelle Gellar like everyone else, but Charisma Carpenter ( I was downright giddy when she posed for Playboy) -- but even I can't believe how much shit Maxim magazine is catching for making Gellar their Woman of the Year. Admittedly, she's been ruined after saying 'I Do' with that fag Freddy Princz Jr and yes, she still look good in a bikini, so this has to be some sort of publicity stunt. Because let's be honest. There's way hotter chicks out there right now.

Hey Ernie what's up. Long time reader and old subscriber to your joke letter, under a different address quite some time ago. At any rate I saw the high score for Mass Attack and i've beaten that score. I posted a 96. I used the name EHOWA KMAC you can verify the score and my name by clicking on the high score button. Keep up the good work. - Kevin

So if nobody is lucky enough to beat Kevin by tomorrow, I'll start a new challenge. And I know, luck has nothing to do with it -- "I know what you're thinking. 'Did he fire six shots or only five?' Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?" - Harry Callahan

Ernie, We went offshore out of Pensacola this weekend. We just started to get lines out, when my buddy catches a treble hook to the finger. We had two choices. Remove the hook, or head in. Unfortunately, removing the hook means pushing it the rest of the way through the skin and snipping off the barb. He sucked it up and kept fishing after we got the hook out. We got the entire hook removal on video. Jody, Pensacola, FL

Sometimes, It Gets Shot Down.

First, let's talk about Color Connect. Given that each level was timed, I made the reasonable assumption that once you completed all twenty levels, it would display your total time (score) at the end. Surprisingly, it didn't. Even once you submit your score to the Puzzle Masters section, there it just says list your name as having completed the puzzles. It doesn't give a total time, or any other way for me to benchmark people with. This was a great disappointment as I, along with 4,000 other people, thought this was a very cool game. So unfortunately, we're going to have to move on to something else. And just for the record, Mike wasn't the first person to complete all twenty puzzles; Robyn was.

mass - noun - the quantity of matter as determined from its weight or from Newton's second law of motion.

The next Game Challenge I like a lot. It's a mixture of physics, reflexes, judgement and a little mousework. You will be presented with a scale and a weighted ball will be dropped on one side. Your goal is to drop more balls onto the scales in an effort to bring them into balance. The longer you click, the larger your ball is. There are four parts per level; after level 7 you can post your scores to their scoreboard. Remember to put EHOWA in your screen name when you play Mass Attack. This is one of those games I recomment clicking the "RESIZE GAME BIGGER" link if your resolution will support it. I almost put my fucking fist through my monitor, so I'm at Level 7 Part 4 and holding, until I can finish a nice cup of Earl Grey tea to calm me down. Fag.

A few times in the past I've linked some pretty interesting ebay auctions. Maybe not for the significance of what was being auctioned, but because it was simply eye candy. Many moons ago, you used to be able to go back 2-3 years in ebay auctions but I notice now they only maintain a few months histories. And thus I have taken it upon myself to snag a few photos of the cooler auctions. Ones you've seen before such as the wrecked Rousch 600RE or the Optimus Prime Freightliner. Soon those ebay photos will be lost forever when the auctions expire from their archives. Now I'm going to archive some photoshopped pics that are just way too cool to risk losing. I'm talking about these photoshopped pictures of Hayden Panettiere which I uncerimoniously stole from the good folks at What Would Tyler Durden Do - sorry guys! Take a peep at those photos! What craftsmanship! If it weren't for the obvious differences near the right armpit of the girl on the left, they might even pass for genuine.

And before I go, here's another optical illusion - stare long enough and you're supposed to see some sort of a car, I dunno.

I'll Take What's Behind Door Number Three.

In preparation for my annual migration northwards for Christmas, yesterday I started scouting out rental car prices. An uh... fuck. Last year I got my little Toyota Matrix for $141 a week. This year it's $269 a week? And that's after my AAA discount! And it's not just one company, it's all of them. Is there some nationwide shortage of rentals cars that I don't know about? Are we shipping them all over to Iraq to make up for the ones that become VBIEDs? Are all the illegal immigrants cutting them all up in chop shops? Are they all serving as living quarters for people who lost their homes in the southern California wildfires? Perhaps they've all been rented out to transport the worker bees along the Presidential campaign trail? I mean I know I picked the busiest time to go, but what the fuck? They know they have me me by the cock and balls, that's why.

As you may have heard, the Bay Area had a good little earthquake yesterday. Yesterday was a bad day to work at a library. These were taken by a friend who works at the Mountain View library - Scott

Ernie, I shot these pictures of a U.S. Marine's truck and decals in the parking lot of Phoenix International Raceway during last weekend's NASCAR race. Never saw the owner. Would have loved to salute him. -Guy

Hey Ernie. Long time reader, love your site. Took this pic in downtown Seoul, South Korea. Pets are welcome just about anywhere in Korea, restaurants (haha), clothing stores, you name it. Just a dog in his kennel riding a scooter. Worth a look. Keep up the great work. Steve-o

Let me just say that I have never been a fan of the Boston Red Sox. In fact, I have uttered more than a few disparaging comments about them in my time. I also have never thought too much for BoSox fans based on my interactions/observations with them at the Trop. My whole perspective of the Boston Red Sox and their fans has now changed. What you are about to watch is the most amazing display of kindness, humanity and patriotism that I have seen in a very long time. It’s Disabilities Awareness Day at Fenway Park. This man with Autism, who was chosen to sing the National Anthem, got a case of the giggles half way through. Listen to how the crowd reacts. - Celeste

10 Rules For Thanksgiving Dinner At My House.

1. Don't get in line asking questions about the food. "Who made the potato salad? Is it egg in there? Are the greens fresh? Is the meat in the greens turkey or pork? Who made the macaroni and cheese? What kind of pie is that? Who made it?" Ask one more question and I will punch you in your fucking mouth, knocking out all your fronts so you won't be able to eat anything.

2. If you can't walk or are missing any limbs, sit your fucking ass down until someone makes your plate for you. Dinner time is not the time for you to be independent. Nibble on them damn pecans and walnuts to hold you over until someone makes you a plate.

3. If you have kids under the age of twelve, I will escort their little asses outside and you can bring their food out to them. They are not gonna fuck up my house this year. Tell them that they are not allowed inside until it's time to start telling family stories about their mommas and papas. If they come inside for any reason except for that they are bleeding to death, I will break a foot off in their ass.

4. If you must, I will allow one prayer for Thanksgiving dinner. Just one. We do not care that you are thankful that your 13 year old daughter gave birth to a healthy baby or your nephew just got out of jail. Save that shit for somebody who gives a damn. The time limit for the prayer is ten seconds. If you are still talking after those ten seconds are, you will feel something hard come across your lips and they will be swollen for approximately 20 minutes.

5. Finish everything on your plate before you go up for seconds! If you don't, you will be cursed out and told to keep your greedy ass home next year.

6. Bring your own tupperware. Don't let me catch you fixing yourself a plate in my stuff knowing damn well that I will never see it again. Furthermore, if you didn't bring anything over, don't let me catch you making a plate period or it will be a misunderstanding resulting in you getting smacked in the fucking mouth.

7. Do not leave my house with anything that doesn't belong to you. Everybody will be subjected to a body search coming and going out of my domain.

8. Do not leave your kids so you can go hopping from house to house. This is not a daycare center. There will be a kid-parent roll call every ten minutes. Any parent that is not present at the time of roll call, your child will be put outside in the garage until you come and get him or her. After 2 hours, I will call DSS on your ass and put your children up for adoption.

9. Book your hotel room before you come into town. There will be no sleeping over at my house. You are to come and eat dinner and take your happy ass home, or to your hotel room. Everybody gets kicked the fuck out at 11:00 pm. You will get a 15 minute warning bell ring.

10. Last but not least, one plate per person. This is not a soup kitchen. I am not trying to feed your family until Christmas dinner. You will be supervised when you fix your plate. Anything over the appropriate amount will be charged to you before you leave. There will be a cash register at the door. Visa and Mastercard are now being accepted.

Hey remember the, "Steve are you with me," reporter who passes out during his plane ride? Here's a little more background info on what happened...

F-18 Dobbins AFB THIS IS WICKED. This reporter gets the ride of his life. Click on all five icons on the left to get the entire ride. You'll give this guy a lot of credit at the end and a lot of praise to the pilot for doing what he does every day. Enjoy the ride, because it is the closest any of us will ever get to being in the cockpit. - Wolf

You probably got about 3,000,000,000 emails already so let me add to it….Lt. Kevin Davis is the pilot who died a few months back in the crash at Beaufort S.C. Just thought you might want to mention it since you are so good at honoring our vets. - Larry

The next Game Challenge. the objective of Color Connect is to clear all colored discs from each of 20 levels by clicking on them one-by-one, provided that the next disc you click contains the same color as the previous one. Think of it as a game of round dominos. Although you may begin with any disc you choose, you will soon discover that some strategic planning is in order if you wish to actually win. Note that there are some discs that absolutely must come last, and so work back backwards to find the discs to start off with. Get a few levels into it and you'll see what I mean. Right now I've just completed level 9, and at this rate if I waited until I completed the puzzle before posting, this update wouldn't happen until August. Needless to say, scores of completed puzzle conquer all.

Hey We All Love Smiley Faces.

What's that you say? Feeling a little down today? Having trouble remembering the name of every single Star Trek: The Next Generation episode? Me too. Which is why I was delighted when I found this Star Trek Episode Song. Now I can sit alone in my mother's basement and masturbate to X-Files in peace.

Okay, okay, I know you guys are chomping at the bit to see who came out on top of Block Out, so here goes. At first Mike sent in this score with 192 seconds, and I started to get a little suspicious. I mean a completing all 50 levels in under 200 seconds? Then Tom with 183 seconds convinced me that it was possible. Assuming you shore of a few seconds in the bank on the easier levels, that is. That made Matt with 181 seconds seem pretty fast, especially considering that when I ran multiple levels several times I always fat fingered the keyboard which cost me precious seconds. So I feel sorry for Abi's girlfriend, because he's got the fastest fingers in Rochester with 179 seconds. New challenge tomorrow, and it's a doozy.

Hi Ernie, just got back to Switzerland from a little jolly in your neck of the woods and guess who we bumped into on the beach... he nearly ran the cop's foot over and was told to go home at 23.00 or his ass would be the first in jail that night!! Did he listen!! Keep up the good work. - Brian W. [Ernie then asked; Uhh, who is that, I can't tell...] Sorry mate it's the one and only Mr Mickey Rourke, the fella who had his fingers up Kim Bassinger's snatch in (9 1/2 weeks ....he just got DUI on Miami Beach on Thursday. All the best. Brian.

Aw c'mon, did they really have to arrest him for DUI? I mean the guy's on a fucking scooter; and it looks like a cheap Chinese knockoff one at that. Aside from the fat girl jokes, what harm can you really do while riding a scooter? You know if I were president, scooters would be DUI-proof.

Let's Bring Em Home 2007.

Six years ago I asked some of you folks for help with an idea I had. My idea was to gather up a few dollars and buy some plane tickets to allow some deserving young soldiers the opportunity to spend Christmas with their families. To say that I underestimated the responce I would get, would indeed be an understatement itself. Rising to the challenge in grand EHOWA Army fashion, you folks dug through your couch cushions and sent in over $14,000 dollars in just a few short days. Indeed, your generosity cemented the fact that our annual ticket drive would not be a one time shot, but an annual tradition. And hence the phrase, "Let's Bring Em Home" was coined. For the next five years following that otherwise uneventful Friday afternoon in December of 2001, I have put forth the call for your help. Where upon I throw myself on my knees and humbly beg that you, fair reader, will help me help our country's young soldiers. To show them that we understand they're people and not just statistics we see on our evening news, or blurry images that dance across our television screens. That we understand how they'd rather be with their families than any other place in the world, especially during this time of the year.

So here we are six years later and the world is a very different place than what it was when you and I began this journey together. As public opinion for the war in Iraq have molded the phrase 'bring them home' to imply other motives, I want to take a minute and remind everyone of the purpose behind LBEH. We are not for the war in Iraq, nor are we against it. We are not Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, Green or Independent. Our motives serve not to change world events, or your perception of them. Our mission is as simple, as it is noble. All we want to do is unite a few military families for the Christmas holiday. That's it. No hidden agendas, no political speeches. We just buy plane tickets for troops. Period.

But before I begin my groveling for donations, I would like you to take a minute and read this article for me, paying particular attention to such points as, "As the founder of a charity called Help Hospitalized Veterans, which distributes craft kits to veterans' hospitals, Roger Chapin of San Diego pays himself and his wife more than half a million dollars a year in salary." That amazes me. I'm amazed first that a person can even sleep at night after pocketing over $500,000 that should have been earmarked for soldiers, and secondly because the IRS hasn't hammered the living shit out of them for it. Furthermore, Charitywatch audited some veterans charities and found some of them spend as much as 80% of their donations on... wait for it... soliciting donations. Now I realize I'm in a unique situation, in regards to running a charity. I have a media outlet in EHOWA, so I already have an inside track in soliciting help. But 80%? Isn't that a bit extreme? So I wanted to show you how LBEH compares to these big charity giants.

If you'll take quick gander at our 2006 tax returns you'll see that last year we took in a grand total of $75,087 dollars - that includes both cash donations and frequent flier miles, which we're required to assign a monetary value to. From that $75,087k a total of $3,060 was spent on administrative costs - that's 4.07% for those of you without a calculator handy. Of that $3,060 how much was my total salary? Over half a million? Not quite. Try zero. Zip. Nada. Zilch. Not a penny. In fact, of that $3,060 that was spent to keep LBEH running, $1,598 of that is of the non-negotiable kind, in the form of Paypal fees. Now, before anyone snorts milk onto their keyboard and thinks Paypal is ripping us off, I can tell you that the exact opposite is true. Without Paypal to serve as an easy and very inexpensive way for people to donate, LBEH would wither up and die. And before you ask, yes, I've asked Paypal if they'd waive the fees and no dice. LBEH and every other non-profit that uses them, pay the same as everyone else. Minus the value of frequent flier miles, we took in $66,562 in cash donations last year -- over $60,000 was from Paypal donations. So losing $1,500 to what are categorized as bank fees on our income taxes, is an insignificant price to pay when you consider all the donations we'd lose if people couldn't donate electronically.

To recap, for every dollar you donate to those other veterans charities, as little as $0.20 actually makes it to our guys in uniform. When you donate to LBEH, $0.96 makes gets through. Where is your donation doing the most good? You do the math.

Not to mention the convenience of it. If you decide to donate by check -- which is perfectly fine I don't want to discourage anyone from doing so -- consider this. Let's say you're a good little doobie and mail your check right off the bat, not letting it sit around on top of your microwave oven for a few days before dropping it into the mail... it's still going to sit in the mailbox for a day before being collected. From there it'll take three days (on average... sooner if you live in the Southeast, longer in the Northwest) to get to me down here in Florida. From there it'll probably sit in our PO box for at least a day before I can pick it up and make a deposit. From there, the bank puts a three day hold on all out-of-state checks. So realistically, from the time you decide to make a donation to the time that a ticket is purchased, is about seven to eight business days. Versus Paypal, where the donation from your account to ours is instantaneous, and the electronic withdrawal from our Paypal to our Wachovia account takes two business days before being available. So a small 4% overhead for that fast turnaround really isn't bad.

Okay, now that we've got all the financial stuff out of the way, let's get down to is, shall we!

Each year the names change, but the song remains the same. Each year we receive ticket requests from young soldiers, airmen, sailors and Marines. Each not wanting to spend a holiday alone in their dorms, and hoping that we can help get them home to see their families. Each year I receive heart wrenching emails from a young female soldier who was forced to send her children to live with their grandparents, while she fulfilled her military duties. And now the only thing she wants for Christmas is to be able to give her children presents in person. Are you going to tell her no? Each year a young soldier fresh out of boot camp pines for the chance to spend just one more holiday with his parents before beginning a long deployment to the Middle East. Will he come home in once piece? Will he come home at all? I don't know. But what if this is his last Christmas? Wouldn't you want to spend it with loved ones, and not with the concrete walls of a dormitory? And you Marine Moms! I'm always amazed at how many mothers of Marines will write in and ask if they can request a ticket on their child's behalf, because their son or daughter is in the field and can't do it themselves. Battle trained Devil Dogs they may be, but sometimes they still a little need help from Mom. And rest assured folks, nothing but heartbreak and disappointment await these fine people. You heard me. Nothing but heartbreak and disappointment await these fine people unless you and I do something about it.

And so once again the time of year has come, fair reader, where I humbly beg you for your assistance. Help me send the young single mom home to open Christmas presents with her kids. Help the young soldier who still looks like his yearbook photo make it home to see his family. Help a Marine Mom surprise their son with a plane ticket home. Help me help them. I can't do it without you. If you can give $20, then give $20. If you can afford $200, then by all means, give $200. And if you can only spare $5, them I encourage you to do just that. Every little bit helps. No donation is too small (or too big!) -- every little bit helps. LBEH 2007 HAS KICKED OFF - PLEASE HELP A SOLDIER GET HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!

Stuff. And More Stuff. And Just For Kicks... Some More Stuff.

Did you hear the one about the fat chick who couldn't get out of bed? Every time she tried to get up, she kept rocking herself back to sleep. Did you hear the one about the fat chick who couldn't get out of a hole? Every time she tried to get out, she kept getting winded. Now some of you bleeding hearts will wrinkle your brows and say, "oh that's so sad." and I say bullshit. That's not sad, that's Darwinism. Despite what Denny Crane says, you don't catch fat. You make yourself fat. When's the last time you think she was at a restaurant and said, "You know, I think I'll pass on the beef stroganoff with extra mashed potatoes and just have a dinner salad." Uh, that'd be never. So when you eat yourself so fucking fat, that a video of you flailing around in a hole gets posted on the internet, maybe it's time to start think about putting down the box of Ring-Dings and going for a walk. The only difference between that fat cow and this one is I would actually eat the second one.

And another thing. Duane Chapman -- I fucking refuse to call him Dawg because that's just fucking gay -- saying that, "I thought that I was cool enough in the black world to be able to use that word [nigger] as a brother to a brother... I'm not." Oh what a load of horseshit. What a load of blazing horseshit. That's the weakest attempt at damage control I've ever come across. I'm sure now everyone has heard the tape and let me explain something to you. If he said "lazy nigger" or "poor nigger" or even "that nigger", then I would see that as a guy who's pulling his words from the pre-existing stereotypes in society already. That in the absence of his own racism, he's just borrowing on the ideals of others to make his point. But when you can just reach into your ass and pull out a phrase like, "you fucking scum nigger without a soul," in mid-conversation? Uh, wow. That's a little more than just your imagination talking. That's an enthusiasm for the word nigger that goes beyond the average everyday, "What's up my nigga?" white guy. You're toast, dude. And you know what, so you should be. He's redneck white trash to the Nth degree and I'm not sorry to see him go.

At first I thought the peyote was playing tricks on me last night (again!) but then I ran across these pictures today. What was up with Jewel's boobs last night at the Country Music Awards? And by, "What was up?" I mean, "My God she has four tits." - Nick

No not you, Puddy. A different Greg. So... Block Out. Goddamn. I seriously think this ranks as the game that's elicited the most responses. At first I thought Matt was going to be in the lead with 476 seconds, which was going to kill me because you can clearly see he uses AOL. And then Andrew came to my rescue with 443 seconds. I still have about 55-60 more entries to look through, so if you sent in one that beats this, don't get your panties in a twist. And if you sent in a score that didn't beat 443 seconds, keep trying bitches!

Holy fuck. James Woods has an IQ of 180? Kind of puts Shark in a whole new light. Mark Walhberg? Not so much. And the latest movie based upon a computer game is.... Hitman. And who do you think will be playing the role of Max Payne? Yep, Marky Mark. You guys see that one and let me know how it goes for ya. Oh, and here's a littler scrapbook I put togather on past posts of animal balls. Sorry I got wordy on some. Enjoy.

Yes, I Still Hate Him.

When cars get auctioned in England it looks like this. When cars get auctions in Australia it looks like this. Where would you rather vacation? If you said England, you're an idiot, because they doesn't have topless beaches like Australia does.

Normally I'm not one for dressing pets up for Halloween, but this time I'll make an exception. Oh, I'm sorry. Did that joke go a little too far?

Okay, a few people have found solutions to Jelly Belly, so I'm going to have to call this one. First to thread the needle were Jimmy and John, followed by Jeremy - that's a lot of J's. Jeremy had this to add...

Ernie, Attached is the Jelly Blocks win screen for level 100. If you right click on the game area and hit full size you can make out the whole play area. Please notice that the green blocks are in the shape of an "E", even though part of it is behind that damn congratulations, but trust me, it's an "E". I made that happen, and this definitely was not the hardest level. There are other ways to win it too, it should only take about one minute, fortyfive seconds once you figure out the secret. Also attached is level 115. At the end of 100 you can still hit the next level button even though it's behind the "THANKS FOR PLAYING" sign. As I started level one again I saw that one column of blocks from the left hand side is missing. Any blocks that are supposed appear there don't. The three blocks at the bottom of the screen should each have one more block each. You can verify this by going back to level 15. Loyal EHOWA fan for so long, I'm finally on the forums and submitting scores. Also what's a good donation for LBEH? I don't make a whole lot, but if it's gonna bring some kid home to his family I'll give what I can. PS, I was playing one of those dollar machines at the titty bar and won a few high scores. I put EHOWA on each one, but didn't have my camera. Sorry. I'd get some pics next time, but I won't be going soon, because money normally budgeted for tits is now being saved for LBEH. Thanks for making my day so much better, Jeremy

Well, the official kickoff date for this year's LBEH is November 11th, which is Veterans Day. As for what's a 'good' donation, it's tough to say. We get as little as $5, and four years ago had a $5,000 donation although about $2,000 seems to be the usual peak. The average cost of a ticket to bring a soldier home for Christmas runs about $400. So I guess your answer is anywhere bewteen $5 and $2,000. If you can give $20, give $20. If you can give $200, then give $200. You'll get a much warmer and fuzzier feeling than if you were to just blow the money on an iPod.

Hi Ernie, Wow, that was one helluva bear story! Thanks. Did anyone mess with you at Scouts after that? And I want to say thanks for keeping the girly pictures small. I know most sites are geared towards men, but a few women like to check out blogs and stories like yours too. I'm glad to have somewhere I can visit where I don't have to look a boobies (unless I want to). I just wanted to let you know about a neat little quiz for people like me who spend half their lives online. It's about web-fiendishness. I only got 48%, but that's probably because I don't game much. When it asked me about gaming I answered that I enjoy Commander Keen and Kings Quest. Thanks again, keep the posts coming! Mary

I actually do my best to keep the boobie thumbnails clean enough to where you can view the front page of EHOWA at work. I'm not suggesting all the sites I link to are safe for work, and if anyone clicked on the above "topless beaches" link and were surprised, well that makes you El'Stupido.

Culled From The Internets.

I bought a bird feeder. I hung it on my back porch and filled it with seed. Within a week we had hundreds of birds taking advantage of the continuous flow of free and easily accessible food. But then the birds started building nests in the boards of the patio, above the table, and next to the barbecue. Then came the poop. It was everywhere: on the patio tile, the chairs, the table...everywhere. Then some of the birds turned mean. They would dive bomb me and try to peck me even though I had fed them out of my own pocket. And other birds were boisterous and loud. They sat on the feeder and squawked and screamed at all hours of the day and night and demanded that I fill it when it got low on food. After a while, I couldn't even sit on my own back porch anymore. I took down the bird feeder and within three days the birds were gone. I cleaned up their mess and took down the many nests they had built all over the patio. Soon, the back yard was like it used to be... quiet, serene and no one demanding their rights to a free meal. Now let's see... our government gives out free food, subsidized housing, free medical care, free education and allows anyone born here to be an automatic citizen. Then the illegals came by the tens of thousands. Suddenly our taxes went up to pay for free services, small apartments are housing 5 families, you have to wait 6 hours to be seen by an emergency room doctor, your child's 2nd grade class is behind other schools because over half the class doesn't speak English, Corn Flakes now come in a bilingual box, I have to press 'one' to hear my bank talk to me in English, and people waving flags other than 'Old Glory' are squawking and screaming in the streets, demanding more rights and free liberties. Maybe it's time for the government to take down the bird feeder.

Ernie, I got to level 100 last night on Jelly Blocks but since the page isn’t laid out correctly (at least on my PC) it looks like it says 10. I swear, it’s level 100 though. If I had time I’d screenshot level 10 so you could see the difference…but I don’t. Anyway I’m also including a shot of level 92 (that was the last one I took before 100) so count whichever one you like. Have an Erntastic day! Lisa R. - P.S. I could’ve kept going but it was getting late, I was getting tired and my pc was getting dangerously close to having a fist through it.

Well, I can verify that it's level 100. Or more precisely, I can verify that it ain't level 10, since I made it that far. Plus the way the page is coded the right portion of the game does get nipped off, so don't sweat it. Besides, I love a chick with a good hot temper. So the high water mark to beat is level 100, kiddies! And if you can't do that, well then you're just a no talent ass clown.

I know you put a couple of links to Kim Kardashian's upcoming appearance in Playboy. I stumbled upon a free NSFW download or view her home movie showing her other talents. I just can't look at her the same way again, sorry. Enjoy. Dom from Chicago - P.S. I look forward to your page every day.

Ernie, Saw where someone sent in a photo of a snowblower train from Alaska, thought I would contribute. My father is an engineer with UP out of Cheyenne, WY. Took these photos last time I was there and got a tour of the yard. They told me that the snow comin out of this thing will knock trees and power poles over and when they hit the occasional animal they only know it cause the snow turns pink. The rotor on this thing is huge, at least 10 feet tall. The pics are of the front, the engine and from inside looking forward. Also included a pic of one of the push snow plows, they put these in front of the engines to push snow off the tracks. Enjoy... [photos] Jason.

Extra Hour, My Ass.

So the winner in Pointer is John in NH with a blazing fast speed of 2 minutes and 27 seconds. How the fuck he did that, I dunno. But moving on, the next challenge is another puzzle game. You must connect the like colored blocks (called Jelly Blocks) in order to advance to the next level. Things start getting tricky at level 6, and right now I'm stuck on level 9 but I haven't given up yet.

Hi Ernie - Greetings from the South Side of Chicago, love your site! As a matter of interest, I've attached some pics of a curiosity I inherited from my dad... Truly a ONE IN A MILLION SHOT! This is one 20mm projectile that crossed paths with another in midair while test-firing the cannons on a SB2C Helldiver. I believe my dad picked this up on the gun test pits on Kwajelein. Hope you enjoy them. Thanks for the website! Keep 'em flying! [photos] Mike S.

You know you are loved when your roommates take the time to cover your room with 15,000 Post-It notes. At least this guy can take a joke. Plus, the fact that most of it was done by a hot blonde named Tammy, hey who's gonna bitch? Bonus Cash Cab mention, too.

Adrenaline Is A Helluva Drug.

For some reason my thoughts have been wandering back to my childhood a lot. I think reflecting on how the train horns scared the shit out of me triggered another thought, because yesterday I found myself remembering a scare I had in Boy Scout camp. As a little Ernie, I'd go up to Camp Massawepie for two weeks each year. At the time, there were only three divisions (Forester, Mountaineer, and Pioneer), and the latter wasn't open. Mountaineer was for homesick mamma-boy pussies because everyone there had their meals cooked for them and ate in a chow hall. I went to Forester because I wasn't a homesick mamma-boy pussy. We cooked our food over an open fire and ate sitting on a log, all in the true spirit of camping. The downside was that meant each morning two of us had to hike a few miles to a storage area and pick up your "Bear Bucket" that contained the day's food rations. And that fucker was heavy. And of course each evening, the same two Scouts had to haul that same heavy ass bucket back to be locked up for the evening. Why not just keep the foodstuff at the campsite? Bears. And each year, some asshole noobie would try to keep a candybar in his tent and we'd have the inevitably bear scare. That means everyone is rousted out of bed at 2am, a raging fire is started, people are banging pots and pans together... it's a real treat.

Anyway, there weren't enough Scouts in my troop (224) to get our own campsite, so weach year we had to piggyback in with Troop 91. They were all a little older and bigger than us, so my fellow 224'ers and I were often the brunt of their jokes. One day myself and two of the Scouts from Troop 91 are out hunting for walking sticks -- the better walking stick you had the higher your social status, so this was very important. We were at the top of this long sweeping hill, eh, maybe a mile away or so from the campsite. And there we come across The Tree. And covering The Tree were Claw Marks. For those of you unfamiliar, bears will rake their claws on trees to both sharpen them and mark their territory. So when we found these Claw Marks, it meant that were invading the terriroty of a bear with Very Sharp Claws. And a quick tidbit about the strength of bears. Imaging being strong enough to pull yourself up a tree by your fingernails. Well that's how strong a bear is and that's exactly why if you have to escape from a bear, you never, ever climb up a tree. The only thing you'll accomplish by hiding in a tree is the bear will have to pick pieces of bark out of his teeth after he eats your ass. What you're supposed to do is play dead, blah-blah, blah, but at the time the rumor circulating around was that bears can't run downhill. Something about the way their hind legs were shaped that made them slow, I dunno. I forget the rationale behind it, and it's completely untrue, but that's what we believed at the time.

So we're walking around it examining the Claw Marks and I'm on the far side of The Tree, facing towards camp with my back uphill. One of these two assholes points over my shoulder and screams a word which I shall never forget. It send ice through my veins. He screamed, "Bear!"

In school I've heard science teachers talk about the "fight or flight" instinct before, but this was the first time I actually experienced it. It's almost as if you're in a car crash, where victims will later recall how time seemed to be in slow motion. Your subconscious makes a thousand calculations in an instant and based upon it's result, steals control of your body from your conscious mind and takes over. You find yourself reacting before you even fully comprehend what's going on. Bear. With those Very Sharp Claws. Behind me. I can't fight a bear with Very Sharp Claws. No time to look. Must go. Now. Bears. Can't run downhill. Camp is downhill. Camp is safety. Must go to camp. Now. Problem. Two people between me and camp. Two people between me and safety. Must go to camp. Regardless. Eject. Eject. Eject.

The way we were all standing, these two kids inadvertently (or maybe not?) formed a line in front of me. But I didn't see them as people, I saw then as obstacles between me and safety. And when bears get put into the mix, it's every man for himself. It's primal. So before that fucker got the R in 'bear' out of his mouth, my feet were already in motion. By the time he did get to R, my shoulder was just about making contact with his stomach. Not because I wanted to hurt him in any way, but because he was standing in my direct path to safety. It's as simple as that. I think we both were surprised at how easily I barreled through him, and I can still picture the look on his face as he realized what was happening. He was about a foot taller than me, but I had momentum and gravity on my side. I remember wondering why the fuck he wasn't moving too, but quite honestly I didn't care. I was moving and that's what's important.

Running downhill is an exhilarating experience. Between the adrenaline and the slope of the land, a single stride covers two or three times what it normally could. You feel almost superhuman. Your vision narrows but what you do see gets magnified tenfold. It's as if all of your vision is focused in one particular direction, it's a somehow a more powerful concentration. The liquid vision theory, I guess. And all of my liquid vision was pouring forward, none of it being wasted on what was beside me. As soon as my mind calculated I would clear a particular hurdle, it was dismissed and forgotten about. Looking back, the speed with which my mind accomplished these tasks is amazing. Instantly guessing which part of the moss covered log was the strongest, so when I stepped on it there would be less of a chance of it giving way. Where I'd place my foot between those two jagged rocks, so I don't twist my ankle or get caught up. How I'd grab the closest tree branch to both push it out of my way and still be able to maintain my balance in case it snapped off. Yes, the only two things that existed in the world were me and the next obstacle I had to go over, around or under. Nothing else mattered. And if running downhill is an exhilarating experience, then running downhill when you're scared is downright euphoric. I remember that. What I don't remember is the kid I put a shoulder to, somersaulting backwards down the hill and coming to a halt only when smacking his head into a pine tree.

Towards the bottom of the hill, about halfway back towards camp, random sounds began to drift into my ears. Words like, "Not" and, "Bear" and, "Kidding". These didn't register with me though, because I wasn't able to spare the brain power to decipher what these sounds really meant. I could so that later while I was recanting my story to the State Police before they went out to recover the bodies, thank you very much. No, my noggen was busy with it's primary goal: getting the fuck out of Dodge. And quick.

And that I did. All the way back to camp. All the way to the Scoutmasters. And before I could catch my breath and start my story of how the bear slaughtered and ate the other two Scouts, they came running up too. The one that yelled 'Bear!' had blood streaming down the side of his head and staining his shirt. The Scoutmaster sorted it all out. A prank went awry. Well the fucking joke was on you Corey Harrison, because you had to be escorted to the informary and ended up wearing a bandage on your head for the next four days, you fucking homo. And after that a camp rule was established: bear jokes were strictly off limits, no exceptions. Yelling 'bear' was tantamount to yelling 'fire' in a crowded theatre.

As I reflect back upon that, I'm reminded of the joke that ends with the punchline, "I don't have to outrun the bear, I just have to outrun you." I guess there's a little truth to every joke, eh?

Hey Ern... I'm an EMT in the Los Angeles area, and after reading your interesting little primer on Diesel-electric locomotives, (A fascination I happen to share) I wanted to share with you the horror of the Glendale Train wreck in (Duh, Glendale) on January 26, 2005. I just happened to be driving to work at about 6:30 AM and I get a page from work basically saying "HURRY YOUR ASS UP! MAJOR MCI (multiple casualty incident) IN GLENDALE!!!! 11 people died and another 140-150 were injured (6 of whom I transported). This wreck was caused when some schmuck decided to kill himself by parking his SUV on the tracks, then at the last second he chickens out and runs out of the car. Normally I'd agree with you that the train always wins these, but TWO metrolink trains (NOT a light rail, a full double decker Amtrak size train.) and a freight train ended up on their sides after this little run in. Always faithful to the gospel according to Ernie, Ian

Speaking of trains. Here's something you mind find interesting. This is a photo I took last year of a huge snow plow on a train just outside of Anchorage, AK. The size just goes to show how much snow really falls up there. Nathan.

Your fascination with trains brought me to a quick search and my new desktop wallpaper. This picture is the rail line that runs in front of the house where I grew up doing all of the same things you did with the freights that ran through your neighborhood. My parent's house is right behind the train in this shot. Chris

Hey Ernie, Just saw your 'Trains' entry today on EHOWA. Glad you like the site! I've been visiting yours since.... way back when (probably '01 or so)! Keep up the good work! Chris Kilroy Editor, RailPictures.Net

Oh and one of the picture I forgot to mention yesterday, in regards to dying locomotives. Previously, all I had to post of the crashes were before and after pics. Well how about a before crash picture and a during crash video. So there you have it. Oh, and fuck you again, Corey.

I've Always Been Fascinated By Trains.

No, not the kind your sister does. I mean the diesel-electric variety, specifically freight trains. The sleek aerodynamic locomotives used for passenger travel really don't do anything for me, and neither do old steam locomotives. I'm sure the latter are magnificent beasts in their own right, they just don't tickle my fancy. Nope, I've always been partial the smelly, dirty, loud, smoke belching freight train. I think perhaps this fascination stems back to my childhood. Sure I had an HO train set just like everyone else but as entertaining as they were, they were still no match for the real thing. Countless hours my friends and I stood on this bicycle bridge that spanned a major railway supporting Kodak, and watched freight trains barrel through just a few feet below us. Every once in awhile the engineer would blast his air horn just as he reached the bridge, and scare the living shit out of us. We rode our bikes to those train tracks. We hiked up and down those train tracks. We made campfires by those train tracks. We got jumped a couple times on those train tracks. And after seeing the movie Red Dawn for the first time, we planned on using these very train tracks for our escape. When I lived near Boston I had a railroad not-too-far from my house; but down here in Florida... I haven't heard a train horn in two years.

One curious point I'd like to make. Up until I read that How Stuff Works article, I didn't grasp the relationship of diesel-electric locomotives. I just assumed that since diesel engines powered tractor-trailers, and construction equipment, and ships, they'd power the locomotives too. Well, yes and no. Contrary to what I thought, the big ass diesel engine isn't used to power the wheels directly. Instead it's tied to a big ass electric generator, which send current to electric motors that actually power the wheels. This allows the diesel engine to run at optimum speeds for extended periods of time, while the velocity of the train itself is controlled by managing the electric current. I suppose this makes perfect sense now that I think about it.

And like any kid, I wanted to see what happened when you put a penny on the tracks. No, for any of you fucking idiots thinking a penny on the tracks will derail a train. It won't. Quite the opposite happens. The train smooshed the penny flatter than a motherfucker. The same goes for dimes, nickels, and on the few days where I was feeling rather rich, a quarter. The Conrail trains that used to pass by my house looked EXACTLY like this. And I mean EXACTLY. This very well could be the train that ended the life of some $10 in loose change during my childhood.

And I'd like to say for the record, that we were never stupid enough to put ourselves in danger around these mechanical behemoths. We didn't walk the train tracks with headphones on; although I've always wondered about how this happened anyway. Freight trains are wayyyyy fucking louder than your headphones could ever hope to be, plus the ground literally shakes at a freight trains approach. But anyway. When smooshing coins, we didn't rush back to the track if the penny happened to fall off as the track began to tremble (a tiny piece of gum did the trick). We didn't play chicken with the locomotives. We didn't lay on the tracks and see if the train would pass over us. No, we just stood off to the side and for some reason and marvelled as these rolling works of art rumbled past. The closest I ever came to getting injured happened when my friends and I used to stand about fifteen to twenty feet from the side of a coal train that was really hauling ass, and lackadaisically pitch rocks up to the side of the train. The rocks would get hit by one of the metal ribs on the side of the coal cars and would rocket off into the distance, all while we carried on a conversation. One of them came back and hit me nuts once. I didn't pitch rocks at trains anymore.

So by extension, another event that's always captivated me quite easily is a major train accident. And I don't mean any pussy train-hits-truck kind of shit because the train always wins those. I mean the good shit that requires cranes and bulldozers to fix. I love when you guys send those photos in. I mean who wouldn't want to sit back and watch a 15,000 ton hunk of metal crash over on its side? But having a soft spot for trains means I have to be a little sad about a derailment, too. Because sometimes that means the end of a locomotive's career (fuck the engineers, they can always hire more of those...). For example, take a look at this photo of a train against the Canadian winter. Kind of neat, isn't it? That was in February of 2003. Here's a view from inside the cab, on that same day. Here's a more recent picture of that very same locomotive, taken last year. Kind of beautiful, isn't it? Yeah that locomotive is dead now.

But that was an easy one. There wasn't too much damage on that one. That green locomotive I linked before used to look like this. But after being struck by a runaway it looks like this. Take a look at what happened to this one between 2002 and 2006. Or this one from 2006 to 2007. I could go on, but there's literally hundreds of photos so I can't link them all.